clashofthedragonsfandomcom-20200214-history
Blue Fire 1
Blue Fire 1 is an encounter in Kingdom Aflame. Enemies * Royal Assassin (Kingdom Aflame) (150 Gold, 150 XP, 150 Energy, 4 HP) * Master Assassin (Kingdom Aflame) (180 Gold, 180 XP, 180 Energy, 3 HP) Transcript Introduction The woman plodded towards them. Her flabby chest, gut, and thighs wobbled in hypnotic harmony. They reminded Darnet of the sugar-dusted, honey-smeared desserts which undulated on the long tables during the winter festival. A minor noblewoman, merchant, or madam, he guessed. She was eating well even in these austere times. Her traveling dress was of the latest cut, and those long nails weren't suited to manual labor. Darnet noticed these things because he'd been trained to notice them. An assassin who couldn't read people like a scholar read tomes was no better than a common murderer. She belched. A loud, guttural noise filled the night. Not a noblewoman then. Unless her family had sent her to a tavern instead of a finishing school. Nor was her walk especially ladylike afterwards, when her plodding stride became a desperate shuffle that rubbed her thighs against one another. Darnet grinned and lowered his weapon. She wouldn't make it to the bushes. Sure enough, she groaned, squatted down, and hitched up her dress. Ludmilla twitched beside him. He met her gaze. Her almond-shaped eyes were cold, almost feline, within the black borders of her mask -- its customary whiteness made ebon by triggered enchantments, darkened for nocturnal stealth. Darnet shook his head. Ludmilla nodded and her blade remained in its sheath. Killing harmless drunken women was no job for an assassin, even if the lady was consorting with traitors. She'd never know that a small bladder or an excess of alcohol had saved her life. Because if she'd made it to the bushes where the assassins crouched, they'd have had no choice. The woman stood up and belched again. Then she sauntered back the way she'd come -- her pace light and casual now that she'd relieved herself. Darnet assumed her bladder would be refilled soon enough. If she came in this direction next time, he hoped she'd stop short once more. His comrades relaxed around him. Held breath whispered from their lungs, and there was a soft rustle as they adjusted themselves for comfort. They were well out of earshot of the rebels who drank and reveled in the firelight around the buildings. Unless anyone else strayed their way, they were safe once more. Free to observe and wait for opportunities to arise. They'd arrived too late to assist Berund, but perhaps they could still... "I met her on a ship, I shagged her in the stern, But when I got to land, My piss began to burn!" The man and his off-key song came through the night together. Darnet's eyes narrowed. This one had a sword on his belt, and wore a scuffed, stained jerkin that told the assassin everything he needed to know. "I went to see the cleric, He told me I'm a sinner. I jumped up on the table, Crapped right on his dinner!" The rebel stopped in front of the bushes, dropped his breeches, and took out his member. Ludmilla's hand was over his mouth and her blade in his heart before he could gasp. She rolled backwards and pulled his corpse with her in a swift, smooth, acrobatic motion. Darnet grabbed hold of it and dragged it deeper into the foliage. A single victim was little recompense for the destruction of an army. But perhaps the night would bring them worthier targets before the fires died and the last songs were sung. *** Redness flickered in the corner of Nevis' bleary, shimmering vision. A splash of scarlet so sudden and vivid he thought his eyeball had burst. But it vanished with the same quickness. Gone between stinging blinks. He rolled over onto his stomach and pressed his palms against the ground, trying to push himself up. His arms trembled. The boy's legs refused to obey. They felt like sacks of water, thews melted and powerless. His raw, aching face dripped blood or tears. They disappeared in his distorted vision and the dark earth. His brain blared incomprehensible things, a tempest of scattered meanings. The Kasan... Disbelief pounded inside his skull. %name% Kasan... Nevis groaned, but his limbs obeyed him this time. His knees pushed against the ground. Then one foot. Then the other. He stood and staggered, almost went down again in a tangle of unsteady legs. The world was a mess of blackness and orange. It swam and shifted. Laughing, cheering voices drew him towards the light. He plodded with limbs that were heavy and watery at the same time. The orange grew bigger and brighter, burning away the darkness, filling up the world. "You okay, mate?" "What happened to you?" "Grab the wrong girl, did you? Ha!" "Shut up! He's hurt!" Unclear faces and half-familiar voices whirled around him. He tried to answer, but pain flared in his jaw. Something grabbed hold of him, steadied him. Strong arms propelled him while his feet kicked and scraped the dirt. "Oi! This is one of your lot, ain't he?" "Nevis!" A green blob sharpened before him. "I've got him." "What happened? Who-" The world shifted again, and Nevis found himself looking up at the sky. Three faces stared down at him. "Who did this?" Yaealina said. Nevis mumbled. His entire head groaned at him. "His jaw's broken," Chumgrak said. "Move," Ryli said. Her dark eyes glowed like stars. "Let me heal him." Furry hands clasped his face and agony erupted through his skull. He tried to push her away, but an instant later soothing warmth flowed through his features and washed the pain away. *** "Here, Kasan!" Someone holds out a wineskin. You snatch it and glug. It's not wine... Peaty, briny, smoky flavors assault your tongue. Fire burns in their wake. It's so strong it makes your eyes water. You glug it again and relish its potency. There's a cheer, loud and hearty. Theadric grins in the middle of a blurry world. "You drink like a hero," he says. Yeah... Like a hero. You lift the skin again and quaff. Liquid splashes on your chin and the toes of your boots. "A libation to the gods?" someone asks. There's laughter, but these people are laughing with you. Sharing your merriment. You drain the skin and cast it aside. "Bring me another," you say. "I'm feeling pious!" Theadric claps. A bottle ends up in your grasp, a gift from unknown hands. You raise it up and there's another cheer. Smiling, adoring faces surround you. They know a hero when they see one. A champion. A savior. But Tessa's not smiling. She gives a minute shake of her head, almost imperceptible. Her eyes echo the message. You laugh and drink. "He lies on the altar, and his blood dyed the dust, Wretched coward soldiers with their murdering swords did thrust, Though he has passed he did a goal to us entrust, He's calling us to war." The song penetrates the jubilation, spreads like a plague until it takes over every throat. You frown. You're about to call out, to ask them why they'd celebrate a dead man instead of the living hero who stands in their midst. But Theadric's voice rings out, powerful and melodic. "Now comes a hero from the Dragon-Rider's line, A warrior without compare whose blade spills blood like wine, King Crenus trembles while his soldiers weep and whine, On them we all wage war!" The others clap him on the back, roar their praise. He nods at you and lifts a tankard. Your raise your bottle and take a long swig. Tessa seizes your arm. "A moment, %name%," she says. Her mouth smiles but her eyes don't. "There's someone you should meet..." The rebels groan at the loss of their hero, but in the next moment they're all singing Theadric's new verse. It's the most glorious thing you've ever heard. You join in while Tessa leads you away, until she brings you to a halt behind one of the buildings. "It's good to drink with the warriors," she says, "but-" "Yeah, it is." You bring the bottle towards your mouth. She catches your arm and yanks it back down. "That's enough," she says. "Don't make a fool of yourself in front of them. They'll cheer a drunk tonight, but they won't follow %him% tomorrow." A fool? A fool!?! You open your mouth to give a cutting retort, but she's already walking away. She pauses and looks back over her shoulder. "Sober up a bit before you come back," she says. You take a fresh glug. She rolls her eyes and disappears behind the building's corner. You're on the verge of storming after her, back to the fire, back to your friends, back to the place where they cheer and sing your name. But some vague inkling gleams through the haze. A half-submerged part of your brain balks at the thought of picking a quarrel with Tessa Tullian. You go in the other direction instead, bottle in hand. A gulp burns your throat. You don't even know what you're drinking, but it'll do. You glug again. And again. And again. The air strokes you, cool and silken. Leaves rustle in the soft breeze. You take another drink, and the bottle shatters. Blood trickles down your fingers. Your mind, foggy and befuddled as it is, finds sudden clarity. A knife. A throwing knife... You spin around, groping for your sword. Black figures leap from the bushes. Naked steel gleams in their hands. Conclusion "Who did it?" Ryli asked. "I..." A soft, dull ache made Nevis shift his jaw from side to side. But most of the pain was gone now. "I fell." "Into the middle of a pack of brawling orocs?" Chumgrak said. "It... It doesn't matter." "They beat you half to death!" Yaealina said. Three angry faces stared at him. But what could he tell them? That %name% Kasan battered him? Even he could hardly believe it. The Kasan... The rebellion's hero... "It was my fault," he said. "I... I started it." "You? You started a fight?" Ryli hissed. "I don't-" "Ladies," Chumgrak said, "if our friend doesn't wish to explain himself, we shouldn't force the matter. I dare say many a lad before him has wandered into foolish situations after imbibing alcohol, as will generations yet unborn and unbegot. Why, I myself once..." Ryli and Yaealina turned to the orc as he recounted his drunken exploit, and Nevis exhaled. If they'd pressed him, he didn't know what he'd have said. The boy tried to think. To recreate every word he'd spoken. What had he done? How had he offended %name% Kasan? He pondered that question long into the night, but no answer came. *** You dart backwards, sword swinging, trying to keep them all in front of you. If they surround you, you're dead. Steel clangs on steel. There's a cyan flash, bright and blinding in the dark, as an assassin's blade bounces off a protective spell that's already waning. Blades shine in its afterglow -- a school of silvery fish biting and nipping. Hungry for your blood. The words of a dozen spells falter in your dazed brain or die on your fumbling tongue. Frantic ripostes bounce back, rebuffed. There are too many of them. Too many foes, too many blades. You're going to die. Drunk, stupid, and- A woman's voice cries out. One of the assassins convulses, weapons dropping from her hands, eyes rolling back in her jerking head. A length of bloody steel protrudes from her chest. It disappears in an instant, a voracious creature slithering back into its lair. Another masked enemy whirls round. He spins again, completing the rotation, returning to face you with blood spurting from a gaping rent in his neck. "I'm here, Kasan!" Theadric says. Your sword flashes, catching a foe as he half turns to ward off one of your friend's blows. Theadric's sword slashes and thrusts. Shining steel. Tumbling ebon bodies. Splashes of crimson. The assassins can't stand against two mighty warriors, two champions of the rebellion, two heroes. So they die. Category:Kingdom Aflame